


Since We've No Place to Go

by QuickLikeLight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Intimacy, No Sex, No Stiles, TW Rarepair Secret Santa 2015, stuck in a snowstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:19:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The window over Scott’s shoulder is wreathed in frost, and beyond it, a world covered in white like Lydia’s only ever seen in pictures. Snow is thick on the ground, a third of the way up the door to the little rental cabin they’re staying in, and it’s still coming down in a violent whirl outside.</p><p>What Scott needs, Lydia thinks, is a distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Since We've No Place to Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvaRosier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/gifts).



“I don’t think we’re getting out of here tonight,” Scott says, face pressed to the glass. His shoulders are tense, the taut line of his shoulder blades jutting out from his back, and Lydia can’t help but go to him, smooth a hand over them. He relaxes just a fraction, but he’s still more wound up than she’s seen him since - well, freshman year of college, probably. When he was still trying to figure out how to ask her on a date.

The window over Scott’s shoulder is wreathed in frost, and beyond it, a world covered in white like Lydia’s only ever seen in pictures. Snow is thick on the ground, a third of the way up the door to the little rental cabin they’re staying in, and it’s still coming down in a violent whirl outside.

“I think you’re probably right,” Lydia sighs. Their flight home was supposed to have left that morning, but at this rate it will be two more days before they can even get to town. She doesn’t mind, particularly - she brought a book to read and Scott always has cards on him these days, so she can whip him at War or Rummy if she wants - but his misery is palpable.

“You couldn’t get through to Malia?” he asks, even though he knows.

“If I had, she would have already asked to talk to you,” she says lightly, tugging him back away from the window. “Come on, babe, watching the storm isn’t going to get us home any earlier.”

“I know,” Scott sighs, shrugging helplessly. His hands settle at her waist with familiar ease, and he smiles when she kisses the air between them. “I just…”

“You miss them.”

“It’s not _that_ -”

It _is_ that. Anyone could see that he misses his pack - besides the tension in his shoulders and the wrinkles on his forehead, he can only pull off half of the dazzling smile she loves so much, and he keeps checking his phone as if Liam or Kira has magically gotten through despite the blizzard. After five days away from their home, their pack, Scott’s nearly at the end of his rope.

 _What he needs_ , Lydia thinks, _is a_ distraction.

“I’m just worried about them, is all. Who decided the Alpha meet-up needed to be in Canada anyway?” Scott asks disconsolately. At least a quarter of his ire is, she knows, that he hates the cold - her California boy is wrapped in three layers inside despite the roaring fire in the fireplace.

“The Canadian Alphas,” she laughs. “Look on the bright side… At least we’re not in a motel?”

She can see the memory of their last motel stay all over his face, a wince and a grimace rolled into one, plus a helpless sort of nod that tells her she’s right.

“Yeah. I guess it could definitely be worse.”

The cabin is well appointed for a little two-room rental - the bed is big and comfortable, the chairs  cushy and oversized, and the fireplace has a large, soft rug stretched out in front of it, covered in plush floor cushions. The pièce de résistance, though, is the giant clawfoot tub in the corner of the room, warm porcelain gold with reflected firelight. Lydia taps a finger over her mouth thoughtfully, careful not to smudge her lipgloss, and then glances back out into the snow.

“Scott, honey…”

“Yeah?” he asks, guarded, like he knows what she’s going to ask him to do.

“Do you think you could bring more firewood inside?” She’s already planning her attack - the nice Christmas albums playing on the record player in the corner, the bottle of champagne gifted to them by the local Alphas, the little travel bath bombs she keeps in her cosmetics bag. All she needs is a few minutes to prepare.

“If you… if you think we _need_ some…” Scott says, obviously hesitating. She rolls her eyes and pushes him toward the door.

“By current calculations we’re going to need at least two more armloads before tomorrow, and I don’t want it all to be too wet to use.” She smacks him soundly on the ass, grinning when he flushes red. “ Get to it! And when you get back, maybe I’ll have a surprise.”

“Something worth going out in a blizzard for?” he asks, one eyebrow raised skeptically. She pushes him gently toward the door, mischievous smile on her face.  

“Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

 

*❄*❄*❄*❄*

 

He can’t feel his face.

He’s pretty sure it’s still outside, with the blinding snow and the whipping wind, far away from the rest of his body. That’s the only reason he can find for the sharp tingling pain that accompanies going back inside the cabin with an armload of wood for the fire. He doesn’t think they’re going to run out, but when Lydia starts talking numbers he usually just agrees with whatever she says - life is his forte, and math is definitely hers.

The brilliant warmth of the fire is intoxicating, pulls him in until he’s standing so close that his jeans get a little stiff, sticking out like they’ve been starched. When he can finally feel his hands and his nose again, Scott pulls off the heavy coat he wore outside and turns to drape it over the back of a nearby chair to dry.

That’s when he sees her.

Lydia’s lounging in the bathtub, hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, swirls of golden color in the water around her. There’s a bottle of chilled champagne and two glasses on the little side table, and she quirks a finger at him, beckoning him in when she catches his eye.

“Surprise?” he guesses, stepping out of his shoes, dropping a sweater. Just seeing her naked makes his clothes fall off every time - it’s like she undoes all his seams, he thinks, as he steps out of his pants.

“Told you that you’d like it,” she laughs. She was right. She usually is, about him. “Come on, get in while it’s still hot. I don’t want you whining at me later that you couldn’t get warmed up.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be the problem,” he says honestly, stripping out of his boxers and his undershirt, tossing them in the direction of their bags. Lydia sits up, skin flushed bright red from the heat of the water, glistening with a golden shimmer from the bath bomb that’s still spinning its way around the tub. She doesn’t cover up, invites his eyes and his hands and his mouth as she pulls him in until they’re pressed together at the hips and the ribs and the mouths. Her kiss tastes like champagne and strawberry lipgloss, and he doesn’t stop kissing her until he’s lightheaded with it, drunk off the taste of her and the warmth of the fragrant water, of their bodies pressed together.

“Nevermind,” he murmurs, dipping in to kiss her again - one, two, three little kisses, before she stops him to ask, “Nevermind what, sweetheart?”

“Nevermind,” he says again. “I don’t want to go home. Let’s stay here forever.”

Lydia laughs, a clear, high sound like a bell, and he kisses her again - he can, so he does.

“Forever, huh? Even with the blizzard?”

Scott looks around the cabin, at the cozy fire and the big bed piled high with pillows, then back to Lydia, warm and beautiful beneath him.

“Sure. Let it snow.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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